| I was talking to an oak tree
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| When the cypress butted in
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| Out of car parts, a raven
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| Made a nest inside my skin
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| To understand me better
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| You all ought to follow me home
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| I make a wish I clean the fish
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| I can scream like the cicada
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| Gin the seed right out of the bowl
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| Ride the train to Memphis
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| When there’s cotton to be sold
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| To understand this better
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| You all ought to follow me home
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| Make a wish & clean the fish
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| That’s why they call me Wash Jones
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| I feel like driving but my car won’t run
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| I feel like plowing but my mules won’t come
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| I was lost down in the bottom
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| I was cutting through the cane
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| Tied my team up to a rusty trace chain
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| That’s why they call me Wash Jones |